


Beep Beep Bitch, You’re Gay

by HappySeagullSorceress



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-13 20:41:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20588771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappySeagullSorceress/pseuds/HappySeagullSorceress
Summary: A fix it fic. How slow I don’t know. I just need therapy.





	1. Prologue I guess

**Author's Note:**

> I really don’t know how to write. So criticism great as long as it’s constructive. If anyone actually reads this, wow, you’re a trooper. If you want to help edit or storyboard, HMU. Right not this is mostly for me tho.

Seeing the heart, and whatever was left of Pennywise, whatever It was, change into harmless, lifeless, rock, everything became clearer. It was such an abrupt moment of realization for all of the losers. Despite prior belief, they hadn’t regained it all. While the flash flood of emotions and moments came back, Richie noticed a constant. A constant shame. Not just with himself and the love he had held for Eddie, but the fact he was too afraid to ever let him know. _Eddie. Eddie._

“Eddie, Eddie”

Richie turned away from the celebration to check on Eddie. To tell him. They won.

Crouching down, he felt more afraid than he ever had before. Desperately telling Eddie, desperately avoiding the crumbling structures, and the words of his friends.

“Honey, honey he’s dead.” 

Richie held onto Eddie, still desperately grasping. The lair was falling apart. Richie regretted it all. Most of all, he regretted coming back. He could live with his secret. He could live and not return, like Bev said, it wasn’t like they had much time anyways. He just wished Eddie could have had that extra time.

The losers pulled him, trying to convince him they had to leave. To convince him Eddie was gone.

_It doesn’t matter._

_Even if Eddie is gone. He can’t stay here. Not in the dark._

He couldn’t remain with the creature that tormented him for 27 years. Eddie could not be left behind. If he was gone, he at least deserved some sense of peace. To rest somewhere safe.

As the thoughts rushed through his head, he looked to the remaining losers. Willing them to understand.

_Eddie can’t rot beside that fucking clown._

Eddie deserved to celebrate, even ifall that meant-

_He needs to return home._

The pleading look stopped the losers in their tracks.

As if some force had shocked them, they realized, there was time. Whatever it was, the crumbling lair had not yet impacted any of them. It was if some shell of protection lay over them. They couldn’t abandon Eddie. Losers stuck together. What they had here was everything. It was worth living for. It was worth dying for. Each one accepted this, eyes burning at the sight of another one lost. 

_Losers. Why the hell did they have to lose Eddie? It seems unreal. It is unbelievable._

Beverly was the first to step towards Richie. She reached for his hands, gripping Eddie in a tight embrace. 

“Let’s get him out of here.” 

The group rushed forward, lifting Eddie in unison. They weren’t going to be driven by fear anymore. Mike looked towards a rock banging in the air, fighting its own nature and the strength of gravity. Eventually it would fall, he knew that, but there was still a lingering essence. It charged the stones and it charged them.

_No, that wasn’t right._

Whatever it was with the stones reverberated from all the hatred and death that surround It. What surrounded them, it was an opposite. The exact force that It wanted snuffed out. That was protecting them. It was what told Mike fear would no longer control him, but hope would.

As was always the case, belief was what morphed reality. Mike believed they would make it , and, just like Beverly, he found it unbelievable for Eddie to be gone. As of hearing it coming from her own mouth, Mike heard Beverly chanting within herself,

_Those in Derry never truly die._

He began thinking it over and over. Believing in it. To a point where it hurt. He felt like he could hear Ben, then Bill, and Richie. It became so loud, Mike thought that they were screaming, but all were looking forward, determined and silent. Within the shouts that, Mike had concluded, echoed in each of their heads, he felt like he could hear Stan too. With all that had happened, he wouldn’t withdraw the possibility part of his friend lingered. 

Rocks began clamoring closer. One grazed Mike’s knuckles. He faltered for a minute, but brushed it off. He chuckled. The old saying “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me,” flashed though his head. If this night wasn’t so contrary. If words and belief were enough, stones would not hurt him. Any of them.

_Those in Derry never truly die._

It was strong. So when a diminished voice echoed the phrase, the losers stiffened. The body they were all trying to carry out was rustling. The chants ended, as if the small voice was cutting it off. The need was gone. The last instance of pure belief spent. Richie let out a shaky breath as they continued the trek and stones began to crumble and hit more frequently.

Reaching the well, Richie looked down to Eddie and saw the slightest rise of his chest. He thanked god that it was enough. 

“All of you climb up. I’ll wait down here with Eds. You’ll need to pull him up.” 

Ben shuffled unsure “Richie maybe I should be the one to stay so I can help push him up.” 

Richie pinched his eyes shut, “ No, you’re hoisting him up. I just, I just need to make sure I don’t leave him okay? Please.”

Ben nodded. And decided to climb up the well as quickly as he could. Him being the first made hoisting the others up an easy task. 

Before she could find it in herself to climb up, Beverly looked at Richie. He was cradling Eddie, hyper focused on the rise and fall of his chest. She could break down. The scene in front of her was heartbreaking, but she just imagined how much worse it could be. For a minute, they were so selfish, they had almost left Eddie. Left him to die.

_Why? Because we were scared? It almost won._

That’s what she thought as she gripped the rope hanging down through the well. But he didn’t. _Thanks to Richie, we conquered the final fright._

The troupe rushed out of the house, and watched as it crumpled.

It would have been a marvel, but in a turn of luck, a car was cruising past. Coming from the church near the end of the street, women in chorus gowns rushed out to the group. Before they could ask about what was happening, Richie pleaded for them to take Eddie to the hospital. The women immediately agreed. One took off the robe she had, and gave it to Richie. Urging him to cover an increasingly cold Eddie. 

With the small car, the losers agreed to let Richie ride to the hospital with Eddie.

They would walk.

Beverly watched as the car flew down the road. Derry was small enough that they would reach the hospital within minutes. She wanted to say something. Anything. But she couldn’t quite forgive herself. She looked towards Ben, and he gave her a small smile. They all walked down the road in silence. 

Each one reliving what had just happened. Dazed, even disgusted, that they almost gave up.None of them could admit it, but each of them knew, for the briefest of moments, they almost left Richie. They were going to abandon him, just like they were going to abandon Eddie. It was as if it was a secret they couldn’t acknowledge. Taunting them. It was shameful, and none of them knew how to fix it.

Ben was the first to speak, “What do you think Richie is going to tell the hospital?”

Bill looked up at the cloudless sky, trying to imagine the chaos about to befall the hospital, “Who knows? He’s good at running his mouth, maybe he’ll just confuse them for now.”

“He’ll be alright, right?” Beverly looked towards Ben for an answer.

Not knowing exactly what would happen, he felt sure of one thing, “Guess it all depends on Eddie.”


	2. Waiting......

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So they still waiting..........
> 
> It’s gonna go slow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it’s VERY ROUGH. I just want to get it out there. I’m thinking of making future revisions tho. If you see any mistakes in lore, or have suggestions on flow or grammar, tell me. I’m horrible at this tbh.

The losers entered the hospital waiting room, just to see a pacing Richie. He didn’t even notice, he just mumbled to himself incoherently. Every few strides he’d take his glasses and scrub them on one side, but with each swipe, he made sure to avoid touching the left side. He avoided the tracing pathways of blood that infringed his vision. Beverly looked at how it seemed to stain the glass. A macabre version of rose tinted glasses.

“Richie, you need to calm down,” Beverly strolled forward, reaching out for him, but he ducked out of her grasp. “Richie you can’t keep avoiding things.” The words slipped out of her mouth, and she meant them, but she just wasn’t sure the context.

“Wha-what the fuck does that mean?! What am I avoiding Beverly?” Richie pinched his eyes and swung his hands away from the face, gesticulating his confusion.

Beverly shifted her eyes to Ben , and in his eyes a flash of recognition followed. He reached towards his wallet, and looked at the now empty pocket that had concealed his feelings for 27 years. Beverly crinkled her nose, confused at the way Ben’s eyes settled on a panicked Richie. Even if she didn’t understand her words, Ben did, and so did Richie.

An hour had passed, and no word was given. Another hour had passed and Richie still managed to pace. He seemed to have taken a page from Eddie, acting as anxiety personified, hyperactivity bubbling into a sickness in itself. The other losers sat, just watching. Ben rested his head in Bev’s lap, and every few minutes they would just look at each other and smile. Bev rested against Bill as he and Mike would occasionally get into, what they considered, intellectual debate. To the rest of the world, it was equivalent to obsessive fangirling and ship wars. It wasn’t exactly the picture of despondence, but despite the calm falling over them, something they haven’t felt since they were 13, they all acknowledged a certainty.

Despite pitfalls, and the mistakes they made, or nearly did, things were finally coming back together. After feeling hollow, as if something was missing, things felt like they were finally healing. Of course, nothing could truly be the same. No more shower caps or tasteful eye rolls from Stan, and the levity between Eddie and Richie, who knows what would happen? Hell, they weren’t kids anymore, there were new limits and new freedoms. The force that brought them together may have been fading. Who knows, maybe it was already gone, but it didn’t matter. They were together, and in that light, that force had changed, it had grown up with them. So far into their lives, they were finally free to choose. They finally had all the information. Demons and regret would not stop any of them from seeing it through.

At least that’s what the four thought. Richie was so far gone. He had only been able to formulate one thought.

_What the fuck Eddie?_

_Dumb, fanny pack, polo shirt loving, jelly bean sized bitch. Why the fuck did you do that?_

The utter disbelief kept charging him. Eddie lived a happy life. Probably living in some big

house, _probably_ loved his wife, and his job as a risk analyst.

_If this doesn’t show how shit you are at that job._

Lost in the recurring cycle, Richie barreled over Bill, causing both to awkwardly fall to the floor.

“Fuck,” with a quick grab towards his glasses, Richie sighed. He needed some fucking tape.

_Can withstand a fucking monster attack, and -_

As quickly as he had fallen into the dead lights, he fell into his memory. Within the lights time went slowly. He watched as Stan sat in the tub, and looked towards the ceiling. Something about Stan always seemed so contradictory. He was the last to accept It, if he ever really did. It was offensive to the reality he lived in, but Stan, even if he didn’t want to believe, would understand. Richie was convinced he knew more than he let on. He knew just how well Stan could keep a secret. He thought about these things, trying his best to distract himself. He didn’t want to see any of his friends die. But from his peripheral vision he could see the rose colored water engulf his best friend.

The picture receded to show Mike on a path he just instinctually had to follow. It lead to a lone park bench. Mike walked past the bench, out of the light, and caught a glint in the nearby water. It bobbed, it’s patterned glints resembling silver eyes. In a hypnotic state, Mike began to creep into the water. Trying to reach the knife that somehow floated against the current. The waves blasted over him, and with only a few feet to go, Mike’s eyes dilated, recognition flashed in his eyes. _Eddie_ _Cochran_. The winds picked up, blowing violent gushes into the water. It caused the currents to constrict and contract in a rhythm similar to a bird’s flapping. He tried fighting his way back to shore, but with a flailing grasp at the grass, he was swept into a whirlpool, and his body disappeared as the water let out croaking gurgle.

Richie wanted to escape the scenes of death, to stop feeling the fear that grasped each one, but he was stuck. Floating in a cosmic theater, he saw Beverly lying in a bed. Behind her a man was grasping her tightly, holding her to him as he brushed his fingers through her hair, before violently jerking her head back.

“Bevvy, how many times have I told you, don’t fucking touch your hair unless I say so. Short hair makes you look like a fucking boy. Do you think I’d want to do this to a boy.” The man peered up, staring directly at Richie as he began to unbutton her night shirt, as he exposed her neck. He pushed his lips to her skin, causing her to blink.

“Tom? Wha-“ she moved her hand over a throbbing circle on her neck, the middle had a hole spurting blood. _Leeches_. A wound reopened she began to panic. “Tom stop!” She attempted to push him off of her as he continued to leave marks across her body, but he held her down. Her skin paled to a sickly white, so the blood that left each mark cut through at a stark contrast. Tears streamed from her glazing eyes, she quickly seemed disoriented, and stopped fighting.

Richie felt off, as if he was falling into the pit that formed within his own stomach. He felt like he was going insane. He kept falling until he landed in a hospital room. Lying on a bed, Eddie was staring at his right arm, and the IV flowing into it. Eddie looked up and stared directly at Richie.

“What’s happening to me Richie?”

Richie froze, not sure he heard correctly. He watched as the IV solution slowly turned a putrid yellow, reminding him of a viscous pus. In it something was floating. Richie focused his attention on it. He felt his stomach turn as he realized he could liken the flakes to freshly peeled scabs.

“Richie, how could you do this to me?”

Richie followed the IV line from the bag to Eddie. His arm began to turn yellow, before slowly falling in on itself, rotting from the inside. He looked at Eddie’s face to see blood red, teary eyes.

“I thought we were _friends_ Richie,” his face became sallow, and Richie watched as Eddie’s face began to rot. Richie felt a hitch in his throat not allowing him to answer.

“How could you do this to me? Why did you do this to me Richie?” Eddie got louder and louder as his body began to decompose, tar like liquid flowing from his eyes and mouth now. “Why Richie? Why Richie. Why -“ the question reverberated in his head, in the pit of his stomach. It became deafening.

“Richie, Richie wake up!” Richie woke up to Eddie patting him. Telling him that he think he got It. Dazed, Richie just held onto Eddie’s arms, trying to get the images he saw out of his mind. Clarity only hit when he felt the scorching warmth of blood splatter across his body. The blood spattered his glasses, overshadowing an already dark place. The deafening scream was better to hear than the faint call. _Richie. Richie._

“Richie. Richie, come on man.” Bill waved a hand in front of his face, before heaving Richie onto his feet.

Richie blinked rapidly, furrowing his brow. He shook himself, trying to determine whether he was escaping the dark or a blinding light. Either way, chasing an escape was taking a toll. He tried to remember what he was thinking before zoning out. 

_Can withstand a fucking monster attacking, but god forbid a slip up with a guy._

“I uh- need some tape.” Richie held out his glasses, irritated by Bill’s grasp on his shoulder.

Bill looked at the glasses. More worried about the dried blood. It had been a few hours, and Richie refused to wipe the blood away. Bill attempted to take the two halves, but Richie flinched back. Bill turned and saw that Beverly shook her head slightly. He sighed, looking at the floor, and the layer of grime that they imprinted on the floor. “Mike, where would we find some tape?”

“Oh jeez Bill, let’s see. Let me just go through my trusty brain that knows everything about Derry.”

Bill turned his head and scoffed, “All right I get it.”

Mike rose from his seat and began walking down a hallway. “I’m kidding. I know a few of the staff here. Plus, I’m sure the front desk uses tape from time to time.” 

Bill rolled his eyes and followed Mike.

When Bill and Mike returned they heard the soft yet direct voice of Beverly, “Richie you need to calm down.” Walking into the room Mike and Bill saw Beverly’s hand holdingRichie’s shoulder.

“How can I fucking calm down? Eddie fucking ended up looking like the fucking remnants of a kebob, and they aren’t telling me shit.” He threw an accusing glare towards the doors that lead to the operating room.

“Just, sit down for a second. Please Richie?”

He plopped onto the seat, but immediately his legs shook up and down. His hands twisted around each other and he faced the ground. Mike handed him a roll of scotch tape, and Richie just wound it around. The memory of all the broken glasses also brought back the times they were broken, and how easily things could be solved with tape.

_Not everything_.

After another two hours of waiting, a nurse came out to talk to the losers. “We just finished the preliminary surgery. He’s stable, but he’s going to require some reconstructive surgery, looking at maybe skin grafts-“

The nurse’s voice faded, and the waiting room’s blinding light began to soften.

_Holy shit. He’s fucking okay._

Richie rushed to the doors, but the nurse pulled him back.

“I can’t allow you back there, not yet anyway.” She looked over Richie’s body, and then to the losers’. They were still covered in the grime from the sewer and drenched in blood. “He’ll be transferred to the ICU, but he’ll be doing at least one other surgery before he can go through recovery. It’s going to be a long process. Right now he is still asleep, so please,” she coursed her lips, “go wash up.” She smiled, shaking her head at the ground, “We’ll let you see him as soon as you get back through the doors. I’ll make note,” she pulled her pen out, and pointed to her clipboard.

“God fucking dammit. I wait here for however many hours, onl-,” Richie quiets when he sees the nurse. She was the first person to rush out to the car when they drove by the emergency room. She had been there just as long. When they pulled up, she got help immediately, and while Richie waited for the others, she sat with him, what she said to him he couldn’t remember, but whatever it was, he felt thankful for it. “While where’s it written? Make sure I’m specified, these losers don’t matter as much.”

“Beep beep Richie,” the losers chuckled as they quipped at the same time. The nurse let out what seemed a genuine smile before turning back through the doors.

Ben inhaled’ “We really do need to clean up. Eddie wouldn't even let us go in there if we hadn’t washed our hands in the past thirty minutes. Let alone sitting in sweat and sewer for four hours.”

Richie nodded and began formulating a game plan for the next hour, . He refused to take more than an hour. He pushed through the doors as the other losers tried to keep pace with him. They lagged a little behind, glancing at each other, trying to connect the pieces together as Richie rampantly searched for a taxi.


	3. Lol still waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, let’s get to it. Unless.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. It’s still bad but, I love what’s bad for me.

The losers managed to hail a cab. Managing to all fit within, the cab driver complained, worrying about the cops pulling them over, and losing his license.

“Well more people more tips,” Bill said, rubbing his face. He took his wallet, pulling out a random string of bills. He could sense the exhaustion and anxiety from his friends. The quicker they reached the townhouse, the quicker they could get back to Eddie. Bill was surprised that Richie even found a cab so close to the hospital. Some dumb luck.

_Lucky Seven._

The thought puzzled him, and for a minute he regretted it. They weren’t seven, and even being six seemed to be a premature assumption.

Bill saw Richie, hands on the door handle, feet in position to propel him forward. If anything surprised him, it was that Richie hadn’t just run to the townhouse himself. He’d probably reach it before them.

“Richie,”

Richie looked over.

“Do you want us to run and get you something to eat?”

“No.”

Bill felt a sudden frustration. At this rate, six wouldn’t even be a possibility because he was worrying himself to death. Of all people Richie Trashmouth Tozier was going to worry himself to death.

Richie leaned off the door for a minute and turned towards Bill, “Look, I don’t really have the stomach for it. Half the time I seem to be barfing anyways, Eddie will kill me if I throw up on him.”

Beverly let out a shaky laugh, “Maybe that’s how we wake him up. Let him lecture us on bacteria and acidity in stomachs,”everyone lightened at the thought. 

Ben added, “What we should so is just all go sneak in there, dirty as we are and smother him.”

Ben emphasized the image as he attempted to bear hug Mike and Bev.

“Oh yeah, he never was one for group hugs. Why was that?”

“Too much shared breath and- what did he say?”Beverly looked around the cab. Eddie would hate being squished in here. Dirty clothes, ragged breathing.

“Epidermal debris,” Richie looked back out the window, trying his best to calm down.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Beverly leaned into Ben, wistful, “but he always did manage to hug you Rich.”

The cab’s aura switched, and Richie suddenly watched Ben squeeze his hand over Bev’s. He felt a tightening in his chest. He always felt special, a little _too_ happy, when Eddie would hug him. Even just bumping into each other, or grasping at each other. It felt special, because Eddie was such a little anxious germaphobe.

_Just best friends._

Thats all it was. He wouldn’t indulge in anymore daydreaming. That was for a thirteen year old. Not a middle aged man. Not in front of his best friends. It was time to be realistic. Eddie was married for god sakes. If he was going to dream or wish for anything, it was just for Eddie to be okay. It didn’t matter where he went from here, as long as he went somewhere, happily.

The others were still washing up when Richie entered Eddie’s room. Richie was still racing the clock. He already had spent 20 minutes washing away the sewers from his body. An extra ten looking for his extra set of glasses. He knew he had brought it, because a part of him just knew one set would break. But, being the dumbass he was, he couldn’t find them. One duffel bag and he couldn’t find his stupid glasses. He reached for his broken ones, contemplating whether or not to just continue using them.

_Can’t just show up all sparkly and clean, with one bust up pair of bloody glasses._

_Yeah, I should clean them._

No he couldn’t.

He would just wear them. Hell, that’s what he was doing anyway. Instead of being hyper focused on such stupid shit, he was supposed to be getting Eddie’s bags. Eventually he’d wake up. So he needed some clothes.

Richie felt awkward rummaging through Eddie’s bags, but he told himself over and over, Eddie would complain his ear off if he didn’t bring his shit. In any other circumstance, that’d be nice, but considering Eddie was probably missing half of his organs, it was best to just not aggravate him.

_What the hell?_

Pulling out a simple white hoodie Richie noticed his extra set of glasses on the nightstand. He just pinched his eyes together, exhaustion was obviously taking over. Shaking his head, he just walked over. Creeped over is what it felt like. Eddie was old as shit, he probably developed astigmatism or something. He always had a nervous tick, his eyes probably just gave out.

_Those are my glasses._

Puffing out his cheeks he reached down for them. It was odd, but, no point looking into it.

_Right? RIGHT?_

Snatching them up, he put them on. With the same amount of awkward fluidity he put the broken pair into his back pocket.

_Now is not the time for your middle aged, closeted, gay bullshit._

Thinking it was easier than said, and said was easier than done. Thinking it too was hard as fuck. He let it this confusing runaround ruminate as he dumped the small toiletry bag onto the bed.

_I’ll just annoy him when he’s healthy enough to leave the hospital._

He swept the pile of soaps and conditioners around the bed, dispersing it like he was trying to air out a secret. A small container rolled off the bed. Picking it up, Richie let out a humored scoff. For whatever reason, the miniature Lysol spray lightened his mood. He threw it into the bag and stuffed in a handful of clothes.

_ Time to go._

Richie lurched into a parking spot and entered the same emergency room doors. It was dumb considering he knew that Eddie was resting in the ICU, but for whatever reason, he still came this way. The answer as to why hit when he saw the same nurse.

_She must be having a shit 8 hours._

She nodded a goodbye to what looked like a patient before strolling over to Richie. He was in awe over the fact that she still could act cheerfully in a hospital. It didn’t make sense, the grey tile and overbearing lights were the image of depression.

“Hi, Mr. -“ she held out the syllable, longer than she thought she would as it fizzled away, and all she could do was widen her eyes at Richie.

“Oh shit, Tozier.”

“Okay, so I know you want to see,” she looked at him, holding out a questioning hand.

“Eds. Kaspbrak. I mean, uh Edward. Kaspbrak.”

_Leave the stuttering to Bill you jackass._

Her eyes widened for a second before shifting towards her feet. She smacked her lips in a strained smile, odd considering how bubbly she was a moment ago. “I know you want to see Mr. Kaspbrak, but we do need his information.” She raised her clipboard, and pen, “now that we have a name, we need contact and insurance info.”

_Do I even have insurance?_

“Uh, when do you need that by?”

“Oh, don’t worry about the insurance, a lot of people take awhile with that,” the nurse shuffled and looked around. She moved her face closer to Richie, whispering, “if you don’t have any, go to the guidance and resource center, they’re very helpful.”

“Oh I wouldn-“ he stopped noticing her eyes shuffling to the nurses behind the sign in window.“Thanks. I’ll fill out what I can.” He took the clipboard and sat, filling in the paperwork with whatever information he could muster, the rest, bullshit. At this point he didn’t care, he just wanted to see Eddie.

The nurse waited with him until it had been completely filled, and as he began to shuffle to get up, she took her ID and unlocked the doors. She didn’t turn to see if he was following, nor did she slow down. Richie felt amused that the small nurse was able to hustle through the halls faster than he was. When she finally stopped Richie managed to scuff his shoes into the floor, tripping into Eddie’s room.

The nurse quickly held out an arm for Richie to grasp. She softened her eyes, and as much as she tried to hide it, he could tell she was suppressing a laugh.

“It’s okay to laugh. I’m bumbling around like an idiot”

The nurse broke out in a smile, “it happens all the time, trust me. Hospitals and loved ones stir anxiety.”

Richie turned to see Eddie lying in the hospital bed, small, sandwiched between blankets and pillows holding him up. His eyes switched to the IV bag, relieved to see it was normal, but disturbed by another bag filled with blood. He took soft steps forward, trying his best to cut away from the image of Eddie’s blood staining whatever surrounded him.

The nurse tapped his forearm, pulling him out of the recurring nightmare for a second. She explained visiting hours, the call button, the bathroom, basic standard procedure. After finishing she opened a cabinet and left out two pillows and a blanket. Leaving the room, she closed the door softly, and Richie felt the first moment of utter peace in what felt like years.

He wanted to sob, but he barred himself. He just needed to sit with Eddie. Pulling the bench as close to the bed as he could, he sat resting his arms and head on Eddie’s bed. With tubes sticking out everywhere, Eddie looked barely alive. He was still pale, and his breathing seemed too slow.

_He’s always breathing hard, always flushed or red from panic. Of course he looks weird._

Richie felt the quiet, and hated it. The best thing about Eddie was that if things became too quiet for Richie, all he had to do was talk to him. Whether it was a dumb joke or random questions, it came naturally. Yeah, Richie could fill up silence with random crap, but Eddie always reacted. Always added. Always listened. He had missed that. When they met at Jade of the Orient, things clicked into place instantly. Richie was used to talking for others to laugh, used to the hollow interaction. Eddie though, he somehow managed to make Richie laugh too. Making people laugh didn’t mean a thing, not in comparison to making the losers laugh, and making Eddie laugh, that was everything. 

He scooted closer to the bed, hoping to sit up properly. He held his hands out, wanting to just squeeze Eddie’s hands, to see if this was real. To see if Eddie was warm again, not the ice cold from before. Too afraid for a confirmation, Richie grabbed the extra blanket the nurse left behind and placed it over Eddie.

“Look Eds... I don’t know if you can hear me, but,” Richie didn’t exactly know where he was going. He knew what he should say, but, he still couldn’t say it. He felt it, and he actually accepted it? But for whatever reason, now wasn’t the time.“But.... you better fucking wake up.”


	4. Time to be Maturin :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, turtles are fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maturin the turtle is a wild part of the story I always loved, and I always think “the turtle couldn’t help us” randomly. That’s cuz I’m a depressed bitch. But yeah, he’s here.

Eddie buoyed with the calm currents. He had never seen stars so vivid. Living in New York he had learned to appreciate the spark of city lights, but at the strangest moments he would feel a longing. It wasn’t just for the natural star lite, it was the ease he had within his own nature. No holding back anxiety, if he wanted to he could overplay it, to the point of being a little dickhead.

_When was the last time I was called a dickhead?_

As the years passed by, he’d remember the little phrase and wonder why it stung him. It stung him in the best way. As if it were a term of endearment from some lost love. It was ridiculous.

_When have I ever been called a dickhead?_

_What do fucking stars have to do with dick?_

He rolled his eyes over his own distracted thoughts. He refocused on the stars. He enjoyed stars. The way they contrasted perfectly against the black sky, making it shine to a point it didn’t look real, more reminiscent of black plastic framing than actual space and sky. The water comforted him, and he felt, despite the knowledge of the infinite amounts of bacterial colonies most likely living within it, that it was cleansing him. It was odd how years of fright were melting away. It was reassuring, but it still felt wrong. He still had anxiety that pulled at... something. It made him feel sad and lost. The fear was more bearable than the emptiness.

The calm of floating in the water dissipated, and he looked around. There was no shoreline, no waving branches nearby, nothing in the foreseeable vicinity. If he could even consider this a contained space. He was alone in an eternal calm. Who knew he’d hate that? He began swimming, searching for something to grasp onto. He couldn’t tell how long he was swimming, but the water felt like it was growing heavy. Dragging him down. He was fighting to keep his head above water. His panic grew smaller when, in the distance, he thought he saw someone else. 

He attempted to swim his way over, but the water itself literally felt heavier, like a black sludge. And the sky was no longer the pitch black with stars breaking in, it had transformed. Millions of stars formed within millions of constellations breached the sky. The light they emanated forecast color gradients everywhere. It was spectacular. Something he felt lucky to see. It was if he was seeing the whole of the universe. He felt lucky, but, he had to reach the other person.

He felt the current in the waters shift, and looking to his right he saw something swim from the water into the air. It caused the stars to shift as if the sky itself was made of liquid.

_Is that a fucking turtle?_

It’s shell resembled carvings that ran along ruins he remembered studying in a required anthropology class. Patterns that repeated the same story, universal and eternal. It swam, and even though he likened the movements to a sea turtle, he felt like the force was drawn to the same place he was too, Derry.

_DERRY. I need to get back to Derry._

The realization clamored in his brain. He watched as each memory hit in intervals and the cosmos around him rippled. Now he remembered the nights camping in the barrens, nights filled with anxiety hoping his mom hadn’t found out he snuck out. How loud and sleepless the night actually was. It was one, among countless memories that shook him to his core, and somehow reverberated into space. The turtle seemed unbothered, continuously swimming. It’s eyes were bearing into him, as if it were reading the maps Eddie had stored within his memory.

_You don’t like it here?_

Eddie twitched, surprised by a soothing voice he heard. From where the sound came, he wasn’t sure, but he drew his attention to the turtle that continued to swivel through the plane.

_It’s- it’s not Derry._

He was surprised by his response. Derry was an awful place. So disturbing in nature, he felt utter malice at pinpointing it as a home.

The turtle was displacing an area of purples and green, heavily clustered with so many stars it was blinding.

_It’s the essence of Derry, the essence of everything._

_Not everything_

The turtle let out a hybrid of a hum and a chuckle at the quick response. For a split second it made direct eye contact with Eddie.

_Why go back when you could float and disappear into the universe?_

_Float?_ Eddie felt a surge of acid in his stomach. Floating. The word brought up images of the floating bodies under the sewer, eerily vivid balloons, and him.

The turtle spun, and began lapping between galaxies.

_Floating can be quite comforting._

He grimaced, that’s all he had been doing. Floating past milestones, meaningless to him. He had just floated through life, and he only felt grounded when he came back to Derry. No wonder he couldn’t stand the water anymore, it was just a distraction from his passivity.

_I heard drowning is comforting too._

Eddie pauses, and saw that the turtle had stopped plunging through the minuscule stars, eyes resting directly on him. _I heard that drowning becomes peaceful. After the panic is spent, your body relaxes into it._ He didn’t understand exactly where he was going. Didn’t really understand why drowning was his focal point. Dying isn’t exactly fun.

_If I have to... go, I guess I’d rather give all that I had, adrenaline and panic, than just wait and wither. Maybe... at least if I get submerged, it’s different._

He had no fucking idea what he was even saying. Whatever was happening, he was obviously going insane. Talking about dying, he didn’t want to die. Calmly or fighting, he wanted to live. Statistically too, fighting and panicking was gonna wear his body. He’d live longer just going with the flow.

_But what fun is that? _Fuck statistics, he fucking came back to fight some demon clown, which obviously was stupid as fuck, but maybe it was worth it.

Eddie smirked at the thought, feeling irritation that the calm was never for him. For whatever reason, the chaos that branded his childhood and the past few days, that energy was living to him. It wasn’t Derry. Maybe not even the clown alien whatever the fuck, but everything else, everybody else, that was fucking it. It was never a fucking monster. It was the group of weirdos he called his best friends. It was Bill’s protection. Ben’s empathy. Bev’s strength. Mike’s intelligence. Stan’s, Eddie paused at the thought. 

_Stan?_

The turtle blinked it’s eyes so quickly, it’s contrasted against it’s otherwise calm nature.

He’d miss Stan’s understanding. And Richie’s..... well Richie was a fucknut with nothing to offer, they can’t all be winners. He snorted, feeling thirteen again.

_Because we’re losers._

The turtle, not that Eddie could say for sure because it was a turtle, seemed to soften. Like it would smile if it could. It stretched his head from his shell, and setting its nose against Eddie’s it hummed.

_Ahh. I’m glad you understand. Floating is too easy. Sometimes it’s better to lose yourself._

With that, Eddie watched as the stars and water and turtle itself, flooded into an exposed cavity. It was painful. Not sharp, but blunt and aching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there’s like mistakes, just like me, but I think y’all with your fried fangirl minds can still manage to understand what I’m trying to say. If not, become a beta. Until then I fucking wing it like my eyeliner.


	5. Beep Beep Beep Beepbeepbeep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fucking sleeping BEAUTY is finally fucking waking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lololol. It’s not at all what I wanted. It’s rushed. But I can always edit it I suppose. The reunion is so hard to write guys. HAAAAAALPPPPPPPPP. IM NOT GIID WITH FEELINGS SO A LOT IS LEFT UNSAID.

Eddie choked as he woke up. Groggy, he felt like he was drowning. He felt disgusting. He felt sore. He felt a lot. For all of two seconds.

By the time he was able to ground himself, the pulsing he felt in his torso was gone. He couldn’t feel anything. He must have been drugged up, because the pristine clean of the hospital room didn’t stir any comfort in him, and when he noticed the heinous amount of bandages around his chest cavity, he didn’t give a shit.

The only surmountable reaction that surfaced in him was surprise. Considering he didn’t like people within his bubble, it took him far too long to notice the homeless person half strewn across his lap. He blamed it on the drugs for sure.

While the room seemed a bit, _fake_, he figured the giant crushing him would help whip things back into shape. It was _his_ giant, homeless disaster after all.

_Right? _

_Well, I guess I have to split that share with the losers. 100% of dumbass across 6............ _

_.......16.6. But I get the biggest share of 17. Obviously...... wait but I forgot to factor in Richie. What am I dividing?_

Eddie shrugged it off. He’d figure it out eventually. He had more pressing matters.

_Like waking this bitch up._

“BEEP BEEP RICHIE!” The first was an ever classic line, and Eddie giggled out smaller beeps, trying to emulate an alarm clock the best he could. Two for one. Just like him and Richie always were.

So caught up in his own hazy thoughts, Eddie missed Richie violently lunging from the hospital bed. Missed the sprinkle of apologies and concern over how he had accidentally pushed Eddie’s body into the railing. He even missed the panicked shouts subsiding into panicked sobs.

Eddie was so far out of it, he continued to beep as he fell back asleep. No dreams, or water, or turtles, just sleep. For the first time in decades, it wasn’t a fight against some unseen plague, it was rest.

Richie for one was grateful.

It had been over a week, and he was finally able to relapse into his thoughts.

He was so shocked by the comatose man _ringing_ at him, all of the sensors in his body had rung off in response. Fear, anxiety, relief. They just bopped out in tandem with Eddie’s off kilter beeps.

Richie, unaware of the crushing feeling he was holding in, burst out crying in front of Eddie. Between apologies over pushing him and letting him get hurt, Richie took gasping breaths. As shallow as they were, it felt like the first time he could breathe since Neibolt.

_God quit crying you little bitch._

As quickly as Eddie had burst awake, Richie began to feel like himself again. Unhealthy repression and all. Things seemed to finally be looking up, and he immediately turned to hug the little son of a bitch. He couldn’t decide whether to be grateful or offended that Eddie was already sleeping.

Richie unsure of what just happened’s normalcy, went to tell the nurse. She still was patient and explained that it was normal for random bouts of consciousness, and it may be another day or two before Eddie became lucid.

It had only been seven hours, just coincidentally an hour into Richie’s anxiety induced power “nap”, when Eddie blinked slowly into awareness. His head felt fuzzy, as if his brain itself had become so relaxed, its structures collapsed in on themselves. His cheeks felt as if they were asleep too, and for a split second he was worried he suffered a stroke or concussion. He waved it off. He couldn’t remember much. The last thing he could see clearly was him and Richie facing three doors.

_Richie_

If Eddie was in the hospital, where was Richie?

_Richie wouldn’t leave me. Where is he? Am I even in the hospital?_

A combination of anxiety and fear ran through his body. Yanking at his heart strings so hard, his heart felt deflated. In recognition the heart monitor sputtered.

As quickly as it droned out, something popped up from the floor causing Eddie to yelp.

“Ah shit! It’s me Eds.”

Eddie was frozen, no longer drowsy. He stared mouth agape at Richie. His hair somehow managed to look messier. He looked like a disaster, so he must be perfectly fine. If he was fine then Eddie was fine too.

“What the fuck Richie?” Despite his loud sentiment, the monitor showed his heart rate returning to normal. Eddie peered to the floor and saw Richie’s glasses laying near the guest chair. Next to it a pillow and what appeared to be-

“Why the fuck is my jacket on the floor?” Eddie succeeded in sounding annoyed and began to ramble over how long he took sanitizing his clothes, and that as well as hospitals were cleaned, they still housed germs of many a sick person. All it took was one lackluster worker for germs to colonize.

Eddie stopped rambling when he noticed Richie standing as still as a statue. His glasses off, Eddie saw his eyes clearly. They conveyed multitudes. Even if the rest of Richie’s body was frozen, his eyes listlessly flickered. As soon as they reached a focal point (Eddie’s eyes because of course) Richie reached towards Eddie.

He was gentle in placing his arms around Eddie’s upper shoulders and pushing his head into the crook of his neck. Eddie could feel how Richie’s face was pinched paired with a violent trembling in his body.

He didn’t need to ask why. He was in a hospital bed. The panic that wracked him when he woke up, the thought of having lost Richie, he knew Richie had been living that. He didn’t know for how long, but just the minute had been more than enough. Just the thought was terrifying, but having to sit and watch someone in a hospital bed, he was surprised Richie hadn’t collapsed. If the roles were reversed, Eddie wouldn’t have lasted. He hugged him back.

It should have been an awkward moment for the two. Their relationship was built around constant bickering, but, at the heart of it, the two understood each other. They loved each other.

It brought back memories of when they were six and Eddie had cut his foot on a broken bottle, crying, fearful that he’d die due to some blood borne pathogen. Richie had pulled out a first aid kit he decided to carry once the two became friends, off handedly chuckling that it was weird for a six year old to even know the word pathogen, weirder for one to have to carry a first aid kit. It blended to when Stan used the old coke bottle to cut his palm at thirteen, and Richie rubbed his back in comfort, distracting him from the pain. To when, at just past fifteen, they spent their last afternoon together, repacking all the things Richie had stubbornly tore from the boxes. To when Richie followed Mrs. Kaspbrak’s car with his bike for as long as he could before Eddie had officially left Derry.

This was one of those moments. A moment of acceptance and trust in a relationship forged between two highly dysfunctional individuals. Complete vulnerability and solidarity. Eddie squeezed tighter. Comforted by the fact that no one else had to be hurt anymore. No one had to forget. He could finally cash in all the faded memories for new beginnings with the friends he never truly let go of. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. You troopers. Y’all deserve a gold star.


End file.
